


Randy’s Bar and Grille

by herbifera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxious Will Graham, Bisexual Will Graham, Fluff, Gay Bar, Hannibal (TV) Season/Series 01, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, what is a title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbifera/pseuds/herbifera
Summary: Will runs into Hannibal at an inconvenient location. Takes place in Season 1, probably around episode 5.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 94





	Randy’s Bar and Grille

**Author's Note:**

> *Mentions of homophobia and descriptions of anxiety/panic* (just warning in case anyone isn't comfortable reading that). Shoutout to the gang for helping me name the bar. You know who you are :)

Will cracks open the windows as he drives leisurely down the old, bumpy road, drinking in the fresh air with a sigh. The air is dry and so, so cold, but it’s a relief to Will after being inside the car with the heat cranked up for the whole drive. He always feels like there’s not enough oxygen with the heater on. It’s the dead of winter, so the sun had already set hours ago, leaving the sparsely populated town enveloped in a blanket of pitch-black darkness. It’s one of many rural towns off the side of the highway, far enough from any big cities to have much light pollution. Only the main roads have streetlights, so as Will nears his destination, he’s compelled to flick on the bright headlights. Thicker beams of white light stream through the frigid air and cast strange shadows in the woods which surround him. 

Will can feel his heart rate start to go up as he makes his last turn, pulling into the dirt road and wondering how bad the sticks and gravel are for his tires. He knows it’s stupid to be nervous but he also knows that any attempts to dispel his anxiety would be futile. It’s better to deal with nerves than to try and suppress them; Will knows this from experience. 

A dim light winks in the distance, growing brighter and bigger, and soon the run-down, rustic, shack-like building starts to take shape. Will pulls into the parking lot, which is really just an expanse of dry dirt that surrounds the place. He rolls up the windows before hopping out of the warmth of his car, walking into the frigid air like a brick wall. He tucks his hat further down his forehead and hugs his coat-clad arms around himself, lingering at the edge of the lot where the trees start to thicken and trying not to shiver. 

The building in which the bar resides is actually quite charming, despite its age and obvious lack of structural soundness. The patio railing and the gutters are adorned with white christmas lights, the kind with the big, oval-shaped bulbs, and two flickering lanterns hang next to the big double doors. You’d almost think it was a house--it looks like any other log cabin from the outside, only betrayed by the hum of chatter and music and the large windows that reveal the bar’s interior. 

Will can appreciate the energy that Randy’s Bar and Grille creates from his position on the outskirts of the lot. The buzz of laughter and rock ’n’ roll music that amplifies briefly each time the doors are swung open; the yellow light pooling out of the windows, creating a warm little patch of brightness in an otherwise cold and empty corner of the woods; the way that as you approach it, you can actually _feel _the heat radiating from the bar, as much the product of warm bodies and breath as it is of the shoddy electric heaters and the little fireplace in the back.__

____

It’s a vibe that only intensifies as Will climbs up the stairs of the patio and pushes open the wooden doors. It’s so much, almost too much, and he has to resist the urge to retreat into himself or inhibit his senses. The music and drunkenly loud conversation are distracting, and the presence of so many people moving and living and breathing in one room would usually drive Will away faster than an angry wild animal, but the feeling he gets from the room is what stops him from fleeing with his tail between his legs. When he breathes, it’s like he’s drinking in the air of joy, contentment, comfort, love… everyone in the room is happy to be there. Everyone feels a rare and unfamiliar sense of safety and they let themselves be happy without worry. Even Will feels like he can relax here. 

____

The bar is kind of in the middle of nowhere, isolated enough to grant them privacy and space but not so much that you’d have to go far enough to get lost after exiting the I-495. Despite its seclusion and remote location, the establishment contains a decent crowd; that’s how Will knew he was indeed in the right place the first time he came here. 

____

Will surveys the area, beginning to relax despite that one part of Will that never wants him to let his guard down. He takes in the familiar tables and booths illuminated with candles, seating couples and groups of unfamiliar but not unfriendly men. He settles into a stool at the bar, opting, as usual, for a seat that gives him a good view of the rest of the room. Sometimes he likes to watch the other visitors, admiring their easy smiles and bright laughter; other times, he focuses on his drink and lets his mind wander, the bustling bodies and constant chatter grounding him, preventing him from slipping too far into his mind. Sometimes he even makes casual conversation with the hospitable bartender or with whomever approaches him at the bar, but most of the time, he simply enjoys the environment; something he never thought possible for someone as unsociable and constantly on edge as himself. He doesn’t attempt to start conversations or approach anyone, and the times he does talk to someone, they’ve kept it friendly and never breached the territory of romantic or sexual whims. Part of Will envies those who are comfortable and confident enough to casually make advances on others, but for now, he’s happy with being by himself. 

____

Tonight he orders a glass of whiskey, swirling the liquid around and listening to the clink of ice cubes hitting glass. He takes a decent swig and sets his glass down in front of him, turning his body a bit to better face the crowd. 

____

His eyes wander and come to a stop when they reach a table of four men in their 30s or 40s, clad in jeans and flannel shirts much like Will is himself. His mind assesses the scene, and judging based on the number of empty glasses littered on the table and the volume of their frequent bouts of laughter, he can guess that the men have been here for a while. His gaze lingers on one of them, a blonde man with shining green eyes and flushed cheeks. When he smiles he looks beautiful, and his teeth are a bright white. Will notices that his hand is resting on the thigh of the man to his left. The two men engage with the group’s conversation, laughing at the right times and contributing their own words, but they keep looking back at each other. Will doesn’t need his empathy to tell him these men are in love; the look in their eyes says it all. He looks away shyly, ducking his head down and staring at his drink, avoiding eyes and letting his mind wander. He focuses idly on a frame on the wall and thinks about love. 

____

“Will? Is that you?”

____

Will nearly jumps out of his seat upon hearing his name--upon hearing that _voice _. It’s unmistakable. But it can’t be? His heart surges in his chest and he squeezes his eyes shut and prays to God that he’s mentally ill and experiencing more auditory hallucinations.__

______ _ _

“Will?” This time the voice is accompanied by a warm hand on his shoulder. The touch forces Will’s eyes open and he inhales sharply.

______ _ _

He turns in his seat and _Oh my god, I did not just run into my psychiatrist in a fucking_ \--

______ _ _

“Hello, Will. I have to say I did not expect to see you when I planned my evening, but the encounter is certainly not unwelcome.”

______ _ _

Will can only hold eye contact for a second before he averts his eyes, but it’s enough time to see Hannibal’s smug expression, the corners of his lips only just tugged up in one of his classic smirks, the skin around his eyes crinkling only enough to notice if you were looking very hard. Or, if you were like Will Graham, who notices everything whether he wants to or not. 

______ _ _

“D-Doctor Lecter…” is all Will manages to say, and he still stumbles over his words. His head feels heavy and a distant hum resonates in his ears and drowns out most of the background noise. 

______ _ _

“Please, call me Hannibal. This is a gay bar; we are hardly in a professional setting.” Hannibal chuckles and Will responds by inhaling even more harshly and blushing scarlett. He turns back to his drink and mixes it around, staring at his glass like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. 

______ _ _

As Hannibal remains silent, it's clear that he isn’t moving away until Will speaks. Will does not particularly appreciate the looming presence over his shoulder, so he musters the courage to spit out a few words. 

______ _ _

“It’s not really a gay bar, you know...not in any official capacity.”

______ _ _

At this, Hannibal just laughs. It’s supposed to break the tension, but it cuts through Will instead. It’s all too familiar and it feels like he’s being laughed _at_ , not with. Hannibal opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say, he drops it and shuts his mouth again when he sees Will visibly cringe. 

______ _ _

“Will, I’m sorry, and in all honesty you’re right. I’m not here to judge you, however, for your intentions in coming here. No one here is going to judge you.”

______ _ _

Will looks up and the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze is just too much. It’s not pity nor ridicule, he knows that for sure, but he can’t even figure out what Hannibal’s eyes are telling him. All he knows is the attention is burning holes in his head. 

______ _ _

“I--I have to go.”

______ _ _

Will rips his wallet from his pocket, places a bill on the counter, and bolts for the door without thinking twice. 

______ _ _

When he makes it outside, he’s greeted with a lungful of ice-cold air. He gasps, and the cold air should be grounding but it does little to quiet the ever-present hum-buzz filling his head. Will sways on his feet and registers in the back of his mind that he’s breathing rapidly. He’s felt like this before, enough times to know that he should probably sit down. He stumbles off the patio and makes it around the corner of the front of the building before he collapses to his knees and manages to get himself into a seated position. 

______ _ _

Will puts his head between his knees, effectively covering his ears from the noises outside, but they are still ringing relentlessly. He shuts his eyes so tight and tries to focus on breathing slower. He feels pathetic for breaking down like this, but the combined effects of the alcohol and his exhaustion aren’t really helping him control the panic he inevitably felt when he saw Doctor Lecter. 

______ _ _

Doctor Lecter-- _Goddammit_. Will’s breathing quickens again and he clenches his jaw, trying and failing to push away thoughts of his chance encounter with his fucking psychiatrist at fucking Randy’s. He’s pissed. He’s pissed at Doctor Lecter--or Hannibal, rather, he thinks as he recalls the doctor’s end of the conversation and cringes. He’s pissed because he was forced out of the closet, for his psychiatrist and friend, and for God knows whom else now that Hannibal knows. Will it come up in casual conversation with Alana? Or maybe he’ll mention it to Jack during their regular conversations about Will’s mental state. Will knows Hannibal isn’t the kind of person who would out him, but right now his head is spinning and his thoughts are far from rational. 

______ _ _

Even more so, he’s angry that Hannibal took this from him. The one place he felt safe and comfortable enough to relax, where he felt like he fit in and no one would question him. The bar was a place where nobody knew him, at least no one from his work or personal lives. It was supposed to be Will’s escape, his safe haven, and Hannibal ruined it for him. He thought, miserably, of how he’d never be able to come here again.

______ _ _

“Will…”

______ _ _

He looks up to where Hannibal towers over him. Will proceeds to ignore him and wrap his arms around his knees, resting his chin there. 

______ _ _

“I know I’m not who you want to see right now, but I cannot just leave you all alone.”

______ _ _

“You could.” The words are like venom.

______ _ _

“I could,” Hannibal says. He lowers himself to the frozen ground beside Will, who wonders how much damage Hannibal’s risking to his undoubtedly designer coat. “But what kind of friend would I be then?”

______ _ _

Will smiles a bit at this. “Is that what we are? Friends?” His tone reeks of sarcasm and anger. 

______ _ _

Hannibal pauses for a moment before responding. “I am whatever you would like me to be.” Will considers this and doesn’t answer the question behind Hannibal’s words. His head still lingers atop his bent knees, his gaze fixed on an invisible point in the distance.

______ _ _

Hannibal breaks the silence. “I was worried you were going to have a panic attack.”

______ _ _

Will laughs and leans back. His breathing is fairly even by now. “Could sense my fear, eh, Doctor?” Will finally meets his friend’s eyes. The man’s expression betrays nothing and he doesn’t answer. “I thought I was going to,” Will continues. “Then I got mad. It distracted me.”

______ _ _

Hannibal smiles, just slightly. “Mad at me, I presume.”

______ _ _

“Not at you. At the situation.” Will pauses. “Well, maybe at first it was at you. It’s not your fault though. It just happened.”

______ _ _

“Fate and circumstance have led us to this moment,” Hannibal agrees. Will scoffs at Hannibal’s dramatic response. The man basically speaks in poetry; his vocabulary is considerably wider than Will’s, and English isn’t even his first language. 

______ _ _

“I guess we have God to thank for me coming out for the first time since I was a teenager.” Will laughs again, but it’s an empty sound. His heart is starting to ache a little bit again, mind flooded with buried memories and unpleasant associations. 

______ _ _

“I apologize for my behavior earlier, it was quite insensitive and I see I struck a nerve. If you’d rather not talk about it, that’s perfectly fine, but if you would like to I am here for you and I will listen.”

______ _ _

Hannibal gives his words a minute to settle, probably expecting Will to need time to think about it, but to both of their surprise, Will starts to talk without hesitation. “When you laughed--it was at something I said, I know, but it just reminded me of the way kids at school used to mock me. I never came out to anyone at school, but some of the older kids, they would call me gay like it was some horrible insult and then try to make me uncomfortable.” Will laughs dryly, his eyes unfocused, slipping easily into the memories. “And when I tried to tell my dad I liked boys and girls, God, that was a mistake. At first he just gawked at me like I had three eyes and proceeded to laugh at me. Then he hit me across the face and told me he never wanted to hear me say that again.” Will stop to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. His voice wavers when he says “Well, he certainly didn’t hear it again.”

______ _ _

Will glances back at Hannibal, expecting to cringe at the pity in his eyes, but his friend’s stare betrays no emotion. He doesn’t say anything, not yet. Instead he shifts his body closer to Will’s and gingerly places a hand on his shoulder. Will doesn’t expect the touch, so he shivers a bit, but relaxes into it. Hannibal’s gloved hands are big and warm and his touch is firm, grounding. Hannibal slowly starts to slide his arms around Will, who leans into Hannibal’s comforting embrace. 

______ _ _

“Come here, Will.” Will gratefully accepts Hannibal’s warmth as the man wraps his arms around him, pulling Will’s back to his chest and resting his head on Will’s shoulder. The tears he’s been trying so hard to hold back can’t take it anymore, and they roll down Will’s cheeks, leaving wet streaks behind. 

______ _ _

“I don’t--I don't come here looking to meet people, or for hook-ups or dates or anything. It’s not like that. I just like it here. The people are kind and they’re happy and you can just--you can _feel_ it.”

______ _ _

Hannibal hums in agreement. “I understand that. Will, I believe you, but if you did come here looking to meet people it wouldn’t be something shameful. Your father would have you believe that, and my heart breaks for you because of what he put you through, but there is nothing wrong with you, Will. Nothing wrong with the way that you feel. And if anyone tries to convince you otherwise, I’ll cook them for dinner.”

______ _ _

They both laugh at this, and Will wipes away another lingering tear. “Thank you, Hannibal, it’s very much appreciated.” He chuckles again and turns his head to look at Hannibal. “Thank you.” He says it a little quieter, his tone serious, and Will doesn’t have to elaborate. Hannibal understands. 

______ _ _

They huddle together for another minute, but despite their shared body heat, Will begins to shiver, his cheap coat not doing much to shield him from the cold. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want Hannibal to let go of him, but it’s too cold to stay outside and so they make their way back into the warmth of the bar. They both order a beer and sit across from each other at one of the booths for the rest of the night, laughing, telling stories, enjoying each other’s company like two normal people. Will likes to feel normal. His hands are folded together on the table, and eventually Hannibal dares to brush his fingertips over the back of one of them. He unclasps his hands and lets Hannibal take hold of one, ever so gently, tracing his knuckles with his thumb. Will laughs when he realizes this is exactly what he’s always wanted, all the times he gazed wistfully at the happy couples, believing he’d never be able to have that. Hannibal asks him what he’s thinking about. 

______ _ _

“Can we do this again?”

______ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't proofread this much so I hope there isn't too much repetition or grammatical errors. This is my first time ever posting something and it was just for fun. Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it :)


End file.
